Here's to the Night
by Tinsel
Summary: Kinda sappy, very sad. Not to be read if you've had a bad day... 3+4. Will kill off best friend for feedback. ^_^ Please review.


A/N: For starters, I suppose, I guess I must profess what does and doesn't belong to me

A/N: For starters, I suppose, I guess I must profess what does and doesn't belong to me. I don't own the world, the colonies, the Gboys, the United Kingdom, The United States, Lithuania, this house, this computer, or for that matter, my cat. I do, however, own this depressed muse of mine and this bag of strawberry Pocky that Tinsel is currently munching on. (Mmm, Pocky...) I also don't own _Here's to the Night_, which belongs to Eve6. Sing on, boys! Read on, readers! 

# # #

//_So tonight, so I lied..._

Are you the now or never kind?

In a day, (and a day, love,)

I'm gonna be gone for good again...//

It was no more than they deserved. They deserved every tedious moment, sitting on the muddy-slick floor, listening to the rattle of cell bars as they shook in the wind. They were loose metal bars, but unbendable or breakable, as Quatre had figured out the fiftieth time he attempted shaking them out of their moorings. His hands ached down from the exertion, and they seemed to creak as the Arabian clenched them into fists.

The mocking voices of the judge and the jury rang around his head like a bell. Guilty. The trial had been nothing but amusement, for Oz soldiers to push and shove for a glimpse at the doomed Gundam pilots. 

Short was the trial. Death was the verdict, death by hanging.

It was an archaic way to go, but that was the old punishment for terrorists. Quatre heaved out a breath, thinking of the dead bodies hanging, hooded and swaying in the wind. Snapped necks. Strangulation

Why couldn't they have mercy and just shoot them? Quatre rubbed his neck.

//_Are you willing, to be had?_

Are you cool with just tonight?

Here's a toast,

To all those who hear me all too well...//

Across the small gray cell stood Trowa Barton, leaning against the wall and looking out the small barred window into the inky black night. There were no stars out, and the air was sharp with cold.

It was a depressing and satanic thought, that he was going to die tomorrow. It was quite a different sensation than going out to face death every day by the way of a cockpit and mobile suits; this time, he was there alone. Just him, and a rope. After all he had been through, his demise was going to be a piece of string.

Truthfully, death didn't bother him too much. In an odd sort of way, he was nearly relieved. He was a creature of war. When the war was over, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

There were only two regrets. One of them was Catherine. She would mourn, and the thought of her mourning hurt his heart more than the thought of death ever could. He didn't want her to mourn him. He wasn't worth her tears.

The other regret... well, the other one was sitting across the room from him.

Here's to the nights we felt alive..

__

//Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry...

Here's to goodbye...

Tomorrow's going to come too soon...//

His sisters. Rashid. The Magunacs. Quatre shivered at the thought of all of those people at his funeral. Of course there would be a funeral eventually - when the name Quatre Raberba Winner showed up on the Missing In Action lists. He would become a statistic. Another male heir would be created. He would eventually become a distant memory in the backs of people's minds.

Duo. Heero. Wufei. Would they mourn? He was almost certain that Duo would - the American was very prone to emotion... though he wasn't so sure about the other two. 

Trowa.

Trowa?

__

//Put your name... on the line...

Along with place and time.

I want to stay... not to go...

I want to ditch the logical...//

"Trowa?"

Trowa looked up at the meantion of his borrowed namesake in that sad little voice. "Quatre?"

Defeated aquamarine eyes met deadpan green ones. "I don't want to die like this," Quatre said tiredly. "It's too morbid."

Trowa shrugged. "Well, unless you can think of some way out of here... I know I'm stumped." A gust of cold air brushed back his bangs. The Arabian shivered on the hard stone floor.

"That's what I like best about you Trowa," said the choked voice, "you're so... positive." Quatre drew his knees up to his chest and buried his head in them. Oh, it just wasn't fair.

Trowa's shoulders fell as he uncrossed his arms. He always felt years the older in situations like these, though his heart seemed to bleed into his stomach in the current state that his blonde partner was in.

__

//Here's a toast...

To all those who hear me all too well...//

"Quatre, please don't cry."

Quatre had actually been containing his tears pretty well up until this point. He had been beaten, humiliated, condemned, starved, and he hadn't cried. But the sound of the quite, pleading voice was enough to send him over the edge into tears. His shoulders shook as he quietly poured wet emotion from his eyes into his filthy pants. He felt so immature, crying in a hopeless situation, but that was all his limp mind could tell his body to do.

__

//Here's to the nights we felt alive...

Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry...

Here's to goodbye...

Tomorrow's going to come too soon...//

Strong, capable hands molded themselves to the curves of his shoulder. Quatre shuddered violently. 

"Quatre, look at me."

The voice was dry, emotionless. Ashamed, Quatre shook his head. One of the hands left his shoulder and propped his chin up. Quatre found himself reflected in a teary bottle-green pool, and was more than astonished to see a thin line of saltwater dribble down from one of Trowa's normally stoic eyes.

"We're going to die tomorrow anyway," Trowa's voice went on, clear of the tears that both of them were sharing. "I just thought I'd tell you that..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't like the circumstances that we're in, but I was going to tell you that I loved you."

Quatre swallowed as he felt yet more tears overflow his eyes. "I wish you would have told me sooner," he whispered, shutting his eyes, forcing the tears away. "We don't even have time to enjoy it. I've loved you too... since forever."

__

//All my time is fools in motion...

Can't I stay an hour or two (or more)?

Don't let me let you go...//

Trowa grabbed both of Quatre's hands, rubbing his dirt-encrusted fingers over the other's. He smiled a little. "Forever is a long time, Quatre."

"But it's not long enough," Quatre insisted childishly. "We don't even have forever... just tonight."

"Better late than never," Trowa retorted, still running his fingers over Quatre's. "Can... can I hold you?" He blushed at how inane and storybook it sounded, but Quatre nodded.

"You didn't have to even ask."

__

//Here's a toast...

To all those who hear me all too well...//

Unsteady and unsure on the uneven floor, both of them lunged for each other, terrified of blinking, afraid to miss even a second of the precious time they had with each other. Dawn brought impending doom and a spot among the heavens for both of them, and neither wanted to miss a moment of heaven on earth - found in each other.

Reverent swears and whispered forevers over and over escaped their lips like a hymn, like if they were repeated often enough they would bear the fruits of the universe, and maybe, just maybe, just one more night to explore each other and teach themselves things they never knew before.

Oh God, just one more night, please. Extinguish the sun, make the earth spin the other way... just don't let the morning come. 

__

//Here's to the nights we felt alive...

Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry...

Here's to goodbye...

Tomorrow's going to come too soon...//

And then, for better or worse, the first reds of dawn streaked the night sky.


End file.
